InsaneJournal

Christmas Past
It just didn’t feel right, opening the presents without Daddy. Jill knew he wouldn’t mind – she remembered Paul telling Janice the night before he might not return from his shift before the children woke for Christmas morning and that it was okay to start without him – but she wanted him sitting on the couch, mug of coffee in hand as she unwrapped her seemingly never-ending supply of gifts.

Most of the gifts were courtesy of her grandparents, who had been dead-set on spoiling Jill and her older brother Brian from the day they were born. This Christmas had been no different; Brian was stone-faced in front of the television toying around with his new Sega Genesis, while Jill paraded around in that Cal Ripken baseball jersey Janice would never buy her.

Which was where the grandparents came in to save the day.

Still, as great as it was, getting everything she asked Santa for Christmas, as wonderful as it was for her and her brother to be so happy on this magical morning … Jill knew it wouldn’t be complete until Daddy came home. Jill thought bad guys would’ve at least taken Christmas Eve off, but apparently they were horrible, terrible scrooges. Jill always watched the local news on WJZ, often in hopes of seeing the good deeds Paul and his cop buddies were doing, but more often than not, she saw stories of murder, arson and other dastardly deeds.

On every Christmas Eve as long as Jill could remember, at least one church went up in flames. Far too often people dressed as Santa Claus before attacking, and ultimately killing, several people for no real reason. It was such a joyous time of year; someone so young as Jill never understood why her father had to pull all-night, overtime shifts when he should’ve been home.

Hopefully, he’d at least be home before Uncle Gregor.

“Mommy,” Jill said, pouting a little and sitting on the couch, the white sleeves of the jersey nearly reaching her tiny hands, “when’s Daddy coming home?”

Janice frowned and brushed locks of black hair out of her daughter’s face, staring at the game Brian was playing for a few moments – some blond-haired man with a sword and no shirt – before answering.

“I don’t know,” she said softly. “Hopefully soon. I worry when he has to work all night.”

As if on cue, the phone rang in the kitchen. Janice grinned at her daughter, giving Jill a peck on the forehead. “I bet that’s him now,” she said, rising to her feet and walking into the other room to pick up the receiver. Jill watched her every move with big, bright eyes, anxiously wondering when Paul would walk through that door.

“Hello?” Janice spoke into the phone, smiling when she recognized the voice on the other end. “Oh, good morning, David. Merry Christmas to …” Her expression soured suddenly. “What’s wrong?”

Jill watched as her mother twirled the cord attaching the receiver to the wall unit in her fingers, knowing Mommy only did that when she was nervous of upset. All the joy from Christmas morning disappeared in an instant, Jill frowning and folding her arms in the vain hope of keeping the emptiness in her stomach at bay.

The room became silent, as Brian had paused his game and joined his sister on the couch. Three years Jill’s senior, Brian had the same dark blond hair as his mother, while carrying his father’s blue eyes. “Sis?” he whispered. “Who’s Mom talking to?”

“Uncle Gregor,” Jill whispered, leaning forward and squinting to try and catch what her mother was saying.

“He what?!” Janice shrieked, her voice echoing off the walls. Jill and Brian both flinched. Brian slid off the couch and returned to his post in front of the television, picking up the Genesis controller and staring at the screen.

But he didn’t un-pause the game.

Jill sat motionless, clutching the end of the cushion with her hands and staring at the massive tree. The white lights were nearly blinding, even in the light of the morning, and their reflection in the icicle ornaments were almost too much to bear. Jill closed her eyes, wishing to God that nothing happened to Daddy, that he was okay and that he would be hope for Christmas, if for nothing else than the big family dinner that evening. He was the turkey carver – nothing else could happen unless Daddy was there to cut the turkey.

Who would cut the turkey if he didn’t come home?

“I see,” Janice said, wiping tears from her face. “Thank you, David. We’ll be there shortly.”

Hanging up with a sniffle, Janice ducked her head and returned to the living room. She didn’t want the children to see her upset, but the stares Jill and Brian both gave her told that would be a fruitless endeavor. Brian set down the controller on the brown carpet and stood, approaching his mother and grabbing her hand.

“Mom?” his voice was weak. “Is Dad okay?”

Sitting to Jill’s right on the couch, Janice took her daughter into her arms, cradling her and staring at Brian. Janice closed her eyes and heaved a sigh to stall – it wasn’t Brian that worried her. He was more a Momma’s Boy, so he’d probably take the news relatively well. But Jill … oh, she was Daddy’s Little Girl, already wanting to follow in his footsteps. She slept with his badge whenever she could, and she insisted on him telling her of all the bad guys arrested before she went to bed.

This would devastate her.

“He’s … he’s fine,” Janice forced herself to finally speak. “But he won’t be home for Christmas.”

Jill felt her eyes begin to fill with tears. “But why?”

Janice kissed the top of her daughter’s head. “He’s in jail,” she said, shaking her head as if she didn’t believe it, even as she was saying it. “You know all those murders they’ve talked about on the news? They’re saying Daddy did them.”

Brian frowned a little, his hand instinctively patting Jill’s back. “Why would they say that?”

“I don’t know,” Janice admitted as her voice cracked. “Gregor said he’d look into it, wants us to meet him in his office in a few hours.”

Jill started to cry at that moment, burying her face into Janice’s shoulder and grabbing onto the arms of her soft yellow bathrobe. She shook with each push of tears from her eyes, a quiet cry slowly growing into a whimpering sob. Her brother stopped patting her back, now standing in the middle of the living room and looking as if he had no idea what to do.

Janice wrapped her arms around her daughter, rocking her. “Shh,” she hissed, one hand petting her daughter’s hair. “It’ll be okay. We know Daddy didn’t do it, right?”

Jill nodded, sniffling.

“And justice always prevails, right?”

Another nod, another sniffle.

Janice pulled her daughter out of the hug, pressing her hands to Jill’s cheeks and kissing the tip of her nose. Motherly thumbs brushed aside a few more tears. “Then this will all be over before you know it. They’ll see Daddy didn’t do anything and they’ll let him go.

“Now, what would Daddy tell you to do right now?”

Jill sniffled again, wiping her nose with the back of her hand. Her eyes were red and slightly puffy, but for the moment at least, the tears had stopped. She stood up a little straighter, straightening the front of her jersey and putting on the best determined face she could.

“Have faith,” she said.

“Have faith,” Janice repeated with a grin, patting her daughter’s cheek. “Now run upstairs and get dressed, both of you. We have to go see Uncle Gregor.”

Walking slowly up the stairs to her bedroom, Jill paused in the hall. One of Paul’s uniform hats sat atop the mahogany dresser; Jill picked it up and let her tiny fingers roam over the shiny insignia on the front. It was almost as bright as the lights on the Christmas tree downstairs, and Jill closed her eyes before placing the hat on her head and walking into the bathroom.

Shutting the door behind her, Jill stared at the reflection of herself in the mirror. The hat was far too big for her, but Jill could see just under the bill of the hat. Sniffling and trying not to cry again, the 9-year-old approached the mirror and pressed her hand to it. A few deep breaths calmed Jill to the point where she could speak again, and though she was alone in the bathroom, her message was simple.

“God, please don’t let Daddy be guilty. He’s my hero.”